


Theft

by alesca_munroe



Category: Unseen - Long Story Short Productions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Amnesia, Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesca_munroe/pseuds/alesca_munroe
Summary: Anthony looks up, shoulders sagging, and sighs.  “I thought you were going to be in the office for a little while longer,” he says.AU.  Edmond still works for Black Star.  Anthony still teaches at the Academy.  He just happens to do something else, too.
Relationships: Anthony Greerson/Edmond LaValle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Theft

**Author's Note:**

> I will come up with a better title later.

Edmond gives chase across the rooftops, teeth bared in a grin. Black Star has been chasing this magic user for months now, and it’s the first time any of them have caught more than a fleeting glance. Well, this week was also the first time Brinkerson admitted he might be in over his head with this particular thief, and Addison more or less threw her big brother at the problem. “It’s not your usual,” she said as she headed back to her office, “but it will get you out of my hair.”

Edmond follows the masked, Glamoured man over what feels like half the city before he gets close enough to do anything productive. He breathes a trap of fire into existence, causing the other man to skid to a halt or run right into it. Edmond reaches for another spell, one to bind, but the thief twists around and throws icicles straight at Edmond with blinding speed and accuracy. Edmond dodges most of them, instinctively shooting fire at the other man as an icicle buries itself in his shoulder. When Edmond looks up again, the thief is gone.

“Well damn,” he sighs and looks for a conventional way off this roof. He’ll have to try again tomorrow.

\--

Edmond enters the flat as quietly as he can. Anthony should be asleep by now; it’s nearly two in the morning and he has classes to teach. If he sees the state of Edmond's shoulder, there's no chance of Anthony's going back to sleep. Edmond carefully shucks his coat, making a mental note to mend the rip later, and walks stiffly towards the bathroom to wash up.

The bathroom where Anthony sits on the toilet lid with the first aid kit, treating a long, ugly burn that stretches from his hip to his calf. Torn and burnt clothing is in a crumpled pile on the floor. Anthony looks up, shoulders sagging, and sighs. “I thought you were going to be in the office for a little while longer,” he says.

Edmond stares. Remembers the precision of the criminal’s work, the wordless magic with its minimal use of wands or gestures, the same way Anthony teaches his students. “Anthony,” Edmond starts, shaky like he hasn’t been in years. “I don’t-”

Except he does, doesn’t he. He’d thought this as soon as Brinkerson had handed over the file. He saw the list of old tomes and older stone tablets that the thief had stolen, ancient magic hoarded by a rich and powerful few, and thought immediately that Anthony would get on with the thief like a house on fire. It had never occurred to Edmond that Anthony Greerson might be anything other than a slightly mad professor. Until now, looking at the injury _Edmond_ caused. Until now, when he mentally overlays the dates of the thefts with the times Anthony was out of town on research trips.

Anthony grimaces. “It was never supposed to get this far.”

Edmond lets out a flat laugh. “What, you and me?” He gesticulates to encompass the whole flat. “Getting serious, moving in together, you mean this _wasn’t_ part of your plan to stay ahead of-”

“I didn’t know you were part of Black Star,” Anthony cuts him off. “Not at first. Hell, Edmond, you told me you were an _arson investigator._ ”

“I technically am,” Edmond points out.

Anthony goes on like Edmond hadn’t interrupted. “By the time you got around to telling me, it was too late. I was in too deep. Both with us _and_ my… extracurricular activities.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling theft of magical secrets from museums and private collections all over Europe? Of magical texts possibly older than the Caul itself?”

“Knowledge in the wrong hands is _dangerous_ , Edmond-”

“Yes, and who are you to decide which hands are wrong?”

“Who are _you_ to decide?” Anthony shoots back. “You and your secret organization and lack of oversight apart from your council, how does anyone know that what you do is for the greater good-” Anthony cuts himself off, presses a hand to his half-dressed leg, and swears quietly.

Edmond has never seen Anthony in pain and _not_ helped. He can't start now. Won't. He drops to a knee in front of the love of his life and says, “Let me help before you lose the leg.”

Given that Edmond’s specialty is fire and all things related, he can absolutely do a better job here. Anthony leans back to let Edmond work. “It was going to be my last job,” Anthony tells the top of Edmond’s head. “I didn’t even know you were on the case, just that the newest agent hunting me was cleverer than the last. I was- it was time to stop. I was done with the double life. I wanted to stop and find a better way.”

“Your knowledge quest,” Edmond says to Anthony’s kneecap. He did a number on the leg; it’s a wonder Anthony was able to get away at all. “Is that why you’re at the Academy?”

“Yes. Where else could I get my hands on one of the biggest collections of magical knowledge without having to steal it?”

“For starters, you could have worked _with_ Black Star instead of _literally anything else you’ve done_.”

“I, for one, am glad I didn’t meet you in a work environment-”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t.” Edmond takes a few breaths to calm down. He finishes wrapping the leg. “Everything I’ve worked for. All the good Addison and I have tried to do. You know how this is going to look. You know what happens next.”

Edmond will have to arrest Anthony. Face an inquiry for how the _hell_ it was that he was living with an international thief and didn’t know it. His work gets called into question. _Addison’s_ work gets called into question, her position, any sway she might have had, it’s nothing but ash. All thanks to Edmond.

Anthony puts a hand on Edmond’s cheek. “I do,” he says softly, tilting Edmond’s face up to look him in the eye.

And Oubliates him.

\--

“-mond! Edmond, wake up!”

Edmond jolts, eyes flying open. On the floor, why is he on the bathroom floor, and why is Addison looking at him like that? “What the-” he starts as he moves to get up. Addison lets him sit up, but doesn’t let go of his arm. “Why am I on the floor?”

“You didn’t come into the office,” Addison tells him, voice sharp like it gets when she’s scared and worried. “You didn’t answer your phone, Anthony didn’t answer his, so I came to check on you. I found you bloody and out of it here. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Edmond looks at the bloody wound in his shoulder, badly dressed and leaking through, and wonders what the hell even happened. “I, ah, there was a thief you wanted me to help Brinkerson catch. Specialized in old knowledge, not exactly my wheelhouse, you know-”

“The _date_ , Edmond.”

“January fourth. Well, fifth if it’s morning now.”

“Edmond, it’s the eleventh.”

Edmond stares, but Addison is too riled to even possibly be joking. “I… see.”

“We need to get you to the infirmary both for that shoulder and your memories.” Addison stands and hauls Edmond up with her. “I’ll leave a message for Anthony for whenever he comes out of whatever research hole he’s dug himself into today-”

“Right, ah, a question.” Edmond looks his sister in the eye. “Who in blazes is Anthony?”

\--

Edmond is in Barcelona. It’s his first assignment in nine months and he relishes the chance to stretch his legs again. He understands, of course he does. Between the attack and the memory loss – a week and a whole _person_. The harpies were _so_ curious but, fortunately, Addison put her foot down on Edmond being used as a lab rat – and whatever the hell happened with the crook Brinkerson never found, he can understand their desire to keep him close by. That and the missing person case of one Anthony Greerson.

“You loved him,” Steven had told Edmond awkwardly. “Anthony, I mean. And like, a lot. Enough that you wouldn’t let Addison use her status as a head of Black Star to intimidate him, just her twin sister status. You and Anthony… it was real. Really real.”

That hadn’t helped Edmond remember. Nor had any other stories or photos or the thousands of emails and text messages that Edmond had exchanged with the man. Nothing sparks a memory or a feeling or anything. Looking at the texts is like looking at someone else’s life. Edmond has loved people, certainly, but never like everyone says he loved Anthony.

But there’s nothing for it. Edmond puts it out of his mind and gets on with his life. Addison bullies Edmond into moving in with her and Steven, and she’s the one to handle Anthony’s things. Edmond doesn’t ask.

Edmond finishes up in Barcelona with time to spare, and decides to walk along the beach, linger there before he has to catch his flight. He doesn’t walk long, just until there’s no one else around, and then sits on the sand with his eyes on the horizon.

“May I join you?” a voice asks in American-accented Spanish.

The first thing Edmond sees is a leg with a burn stretching up from the calf and disappearing into a pair of swimming shorts. Less than a year old injury, unless he misses his guess (he rarely does). The most geometrically precise tattoos Edmond has ever seen wrap an arm. Edmond looks up into a smiling, unfamiliar face. Edmond detects a hint of Glamoury, but lets it go. Some people like their privacy, and his work here is done. “By all means,” Edmond answers in slightly better Spanish. “Would you prefer English?”

“Please.” The man sits down next to Edmond. “It’s not every day you see a man in a suit sitting in the sand.”

“It’s not every day a stranger with remarkable tattoos sits down next to me on a beach,” Edmond returns easily. “Or it might be; apparently my memory isn’t quit what it used to be.”

“You don’t look old enough to have memory problems,” the stranger says, raking a long look over Edmond. It doesn’t feel like flirtation, not quite curiosity, more like… assessment. Concern.

Edmond shrugs. He’s comfortable with getting older. “I’m waiting on a flight. What brings you to Barcelona?”

“Ah, I came here to reconnect with an old flame, but there isn't a spark anymore. He just... looked at me like I was a stranger.” He smiles, more than a little heartbroken. “I can’t blame him. We didn’t exactly part on the best terms. But still, I hoped that seeing him again, it might have undone a little of the damage.”

“That’s a shame that it didn’t work out,” Edmond says, sympathetic. “My nephew, Steven, had a similar situation with an old girlfriend just this last winter. They’re still testing the waters, seeing if they can at least be in the same room again. It’s… a difficult time, but they seem so determined to learn to be friends again.” He pauses. “It might have helped if they could ever admit that they actually still love each other, get back together, and skip all the messy bits, but what do I know? I’m the bachelor uncle who’s never loved like they have.”

“Never?” the stranger asks, an odd note in his voice.

It makes Edmond pause. Nice thing about people you'll never see again, it's possible to tell them the stranger parts of your life and not worry about talking to them ever again. And it would be nice to talk to someone who isn't his therapist or Addison. “Not that I can remember,” he says slowly. He looks out at the horizon again. “That memory business, you know. Someone Oubliated me a while back, and it’s the damnedest thing, they just took all the memories I had of a person. All the rest of my memories are intact- I remember a beach holiday, just not that there was another person with me, that sort of thing. But my family, they tell me I loved this person very much. And I must have.”

“Because they said so?”

Edmond laughs at the skepticism. Typical American. He reaches into his pocket. “No, it’s because I found this in my sock drawer when I moved back in with my sister.”

And Edmond shows the ring box to the stranger. “It doesn’t fit me, isn’t even my style,” Edmond says. “But whoever Anthony Greerson was, I must have loved him as much or more than they say. It’s a strange thought, you know, that I could love someone so much and not remember. He went missing the same night I lost my memories.”

“I’m sorry,” the stranger says. It’s one of Steven’s Americanisms, too, apologizing about sad things when it’s in no way his fault.

“I don’t remember him, can’t imagine loving someone so much. But I hope he’s happy and safe, wherever he is.”

The stranger clears his throat. “You’re a better man than he deserved.”

Edmond turns to offer a smirk and a teasing comment, anything to break the dour mood, but the other man is gone. “Clever bit of magic, that,” Edmond muses, and gets up. It’s time to find the airport.


End file.
